May I Walk With You?
by TankOfO2
Summary: "He thought he knew how things would end up. His world worked. He had hope at least. Now? When there's the prospect of completely losing your track, your sight ahead and head and... heart - how can one gaping hollow feel so damn heavy? ("I remember every second of it.")" - Post "The Limey" & pre "Headhunters" - Clouds will lift eventually


_I'm a fan of a fan and this chapter is dedicated to her. I wrote this entirely being inspired by reading her wonderful stories._

_Post "The Limey" and pre "Headhunters"._

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><p><strong><span>May I Walk With You?<br>**

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He can feel the hair rise on the back of his neck. Nothing has changed since he last consciously checked, but somehow it still feels... off. A cold and eerie sting is starting to sink deeper under his skin. He blinks and twists his head. On this side. That. Taking in the early spring street.

Something... something about the light. It seems like everything has been dipped into some kind of yellow, dusty hue, making the surroundings look almost grayish. Invisible little dots bursting in peripheral vision, his eyes wandering, carelessly casting aside one sight after another. Not really seeing. Yet searching. Attaching onto objects only to discard them the next moment. That easy. See? See.

The light. It must be about the light. He lifts his gaze and slows his stride. He sees now. It's coming from the wrong side of the sky. Heavy-looking clouds covering the west are making the east seem too bright and bloom with sunlight, unnaturally for this time of the day. Late afternoon. Early evening. It's too bright and on the wrong side and the sight is just too confusing for his state of mind.

Like the world's order has been changed and they somehow forgot to send him the memo.

He kicks a lost pebble in the middle of the sidewalk with more force than necessary. Watches the stone jump and roll away, heading towards the trash bin on the side of the road. He grunts with satisfaction when a distinctive clunk tells him he hit the target and already he is on his way again.

The memo.

He thought he knew how things would end up. His world worked. Was going to work out. He had hope at least. Now? When there's the prospect of completely losing your track, your sight ahead and head and... heart - how can one gaping hollow feel so damn heavy?

_I remember every second of it._

Castle feels bile rising in his throat. He pushes his hand to his sternum, willing it down, and strides on. Because the world doesn't have to make sense and neither does she. Or – or all she did does make sense and he really can't decide which prospect is more frightening. Maybe that eerie light is right, still.

"Hey. Can I walk with you?"

He does hear the familiar sound of her voice, that light-sounding greeting that settles right in his stomach, but he simply chooses not to respond. Thank god his thigh muscles don't falter, because he won't stop. Isn't going to. This, here, isn't happening. It is not. Simple. He is too deep into self-pity to let anyone, let alone her, near him at the moment.

"Hey. Castle."

Kate scurries two steps after him and seeing his impassive face, takes two steps more to stand in front of him. He doesn't look at her directly, but makes out the face, the familiar lines of this woman and feels instantly wrapped up with something that resembles with warmth and affection coming from the memories evoked by her. Yes. He remembers her with every fiber in his being.

He crushes the feeling down.

"Hey. What are you doing here?" She asks and her face is surprised, mixture of happiness and unexpectedness lit up in her eyes. Like the face you get when you bump into a good friend by accident.

Well, not that good of a friend anymore.

She is searching for his face, even turning herself slightly so that it would be easier to find and look at her in the crowd pushing past them, but all in vain. He keeps his face just on this side of detached, but having a weird impulse to be polite, he still answers.

"Me? Nothing. Having a walk. Clearing..." He is letting his eyes wander, past her and downwards and on the sides and it is then he notices a grocery bag balanced on the line of her hip. "It's nothing. – Look, I really wouldn't want to keep you, so..." He waves deftly towards the paper bag, glad having some sort of excuse to let her go. He even manages to squeeze a smile out at that.

A quick glance into her eyes - lines of confusion and a lingering smile - confirms that she isn't done yet.

It's all harder like this. They are not at work. There is no case. No victim looming over them, no suspect to hunt; no colleagues to distract them, no friends to fool. They are what they are, standing in the river of unknown faces, and the big dent in the dynamic of their partnership can be spotted from space, he is sure. Right now, he understands a bit more why she's kept that distance between them like she has been for the past years. Feels it himself.

It _is_ harder like this. Being hurt, soul battered, it does no good to an already torn out heart when this... thing between them heightens everything. Like a natural high. Every time they're in the same room, this spark comes to life. Constant sizzle, somewhere deep and low, keeping senses heightened. Aches go deeper. It's the chemistry that turns your insides out and you know – you know, that this is different. More raw; honest.

Except _she _wasn't. She wasn't honest with him. And he sees that she still isn't done.

Holding onto her smile, Kate scans his face. „No. It's ok, just grabbed a few things from the corner store." Words come out more slowly now, deliberately drawn out and weighed. To buy her some time. She is fishing for answers. Good luck with that. He ain't got any. „...Still, what brings you this side of the down?"

He almost snorts.

Kate's face falls and he can pinpoint the moment it hits her that this whole discord is indeed no misunderstanding.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Castle, I live two blocks from here."

"No."

Her face turns puzzled. "Last time I checked..."

He repeats no again, because he just can't believe it. That he still ends up here. On this side of town, on this side of his life. When he left the loft he hadn't made any plans, just needed to think and find his center again, focus on something other than her but now he still has ended up near her place - of all the places in the city. It seems he can't let go when he's around her, he can't let go when he lets his mind drift like the clouds in the strange-looking sky. Like there's a compass and here's a starting point. Or an end. Maybe he just has to let it be one. He squeezes his fists tighter in his pockets.

"...You live here. Yes. I really should go."

He means it. He should go. While at work, he has shown her only the edge of his fury. Snippets, inserts here and there. It really isn't wise to be exposing all of it, he feels like enough of a fool. He takes a step on the side but before he even finishes it, her hand is on his wrist. Fingers cold and little damp at the tips as she stops him.

"What is going on, Castle? I mean – are you okay?" Her voice is already breathless, syllables almost stumbling on top of each other and she is visibly losing her resolve. It's funny because hasn't she been repeating the same question too many times over last two weeks already? There's not even a beat before he answers.

„Are you? Okay?" It's sharp and quick and clipped, and it was his intention but after the words have fallen from his mouth, they taste like injustice, too. Clearly, she is worried about him so she isn't. But neither is he.

There's no need for an answer. His last words echo between them and she takes a clear step back, letting her hand fall. Defeated; deflated she just stands there. Face blank, hurt and confusion bleaching her skin. She almost looks guilty. Almost.

"I'm sorry. It was stupid. Look, if you have anything say to me, say it now, so we can just go on with this day, our lives – I don't know. I..." The louder he gets, the more lost he gets in his own words, because he simply doesn't understand. What on earth could still be holding her back? What makes this fierce woman run, refuse to confess those few silly lines, that she heard him. _I'm sorry. I remember. This is not going to work. I don't love you._

The last thought makes his head jerk up with hurt and for the first time in their chance meeting his eyes are boring directly into hers, like he might be able to will the truth out from her. All his disappointment and anger on display. And his sadness.

Castle can see the hesitation. The line of her lip is slightly trembling and whether she wants it or not, he sees the quiet battle rising in her, too.

Suddenly, like she's reconsidering something, Kate dips her head. Lowers it, lets her eyes drift on the pavement and starts slowly shaking her head.

"Didn't think so."

He starts to push past her, but meets resistance once again and he feels himself at the shredded end of his self-control. Impatience is seeping into his bones and he'd really like to kick some more damn pebbles right now rather than spend another second on this spot. He needs to move.

"Kate. What is it?"

Her cheeks are flushed. Her breathing quicker, but she stands tall again and doesn't waver when she calmly states.

"Not here, Castle. Please. My place. Come with me?"

"Why?"

"Because we obviously need a more private place to... I need to understand..."

"Understand? What about me? What I need?"

He just needs an out. An end. This sinking feeling to stop. Even now she manages to drag things along without really saying anything.

Castle watches her shift, crossing hands over her chest. Annoyance is flickering in her eyes and there's an edge to her tone. "As I recall uncomplicated and fun, was it now?"

The words have an effect of a whiplash in his system. His eyes. He can feel them turning dark. Darkest he's ever allowed her to see them. "Oh, you so do not want to go there, Beckett." It's a hiss. A whispered promise, and nothing short of a warning. They are standing closer again, but he can't remember the last time it had felt that cold. He feels cold. "Oh, and this better be good. Lead the way."

Despite his words he is the one to stride away first, only this time going in the direction of her place without waiting for her to answer or follow.

Kate takes a moment to gather herself and runs her fingers through her hair, closing her eyes.

It's all wrong. Weird. This, the evening. Something… Everything with an eerie, yellowish tinge to it.

She directs her focus on Castle's quickly retreating form again, keeping herself just inches behind him, lets him lead the way. He did say he'd come with her but then, when he turned his back on her, why did it feel like a door was just slammed shut right into her face? She sighs and adjusts the bag in her arms.

"Yeah. This better be good."

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><p><strong>AN:** I_'ve got no excuse for dragging this horrible fight back up again but this story has been so long in the making (wrote it this summer) and I wanted it finally out. Two more chapters to go._

_I want to thank my lovely and always helpful Freewheeler, who took her time to edit this. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You really make a difference :D (Ohh, and pssst, she doesn't even know I'm finally posting this.)_

_And thank you to those who suffered through all the angst and let me share this story with you. See you in a second chapter?_


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